


Words Unsaid

by IsntThatSplendid



Category: MCU, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Suicide, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Hurt, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is gone, Sad, Suicide trigger warning, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark The Saviour, emotion, grieving tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-26 06:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsntThatSplendid/pseuds/IsntThatSplendid
Summary: Tony Stark doesn't just see the life leave Peter Parker's eyes - he feels it.





	1. I'm Sorry, Peter

 

There was nothing.

Time itself was gone, as Tony Stark dragged his intern's lifeless body out of the lake.

Tony had not just seen the life leave Peter Parker's body - he had _felt_ it. The strange feeling of his soul exiting his body, his lips parted and eyes open slightly.

Everything felt numb - the squelch of his feet on the bank, the chill of the evening breeze on his bare face, the light rain that fell down on them, the deadweight of Peter Parker collapsed against him.

All Tony could feel was an empty, lost feeling in his chest. Like his heart had been literally ripped out, strings attached.

He currently had his hands hooked under Peter's armpits and had him halfway out of the freezing water. Tony grunted as he pulled the boy out the rest of the way, then fell to his knees next to his lifeless form. He didn't need to check if the kid was breathing, he already knew the answer, and straight away laid two hands down onto Peter's chest and began compressions.

One, two, three...

Tony tipped his intern's head back and pressed his mouth to his, breathing life into his water-filled lungs.

One, two, three, breathe.

One, two, three, breathe.

One, two, three, breathe.

The actions became more desperate as still no response came, and Tony tried one last time before giving up.

One, two, three, breathe...

 

Nothing.

 

A wretched cry tore from Tony's throat as he fell back onto his heels, covering his mouth with one hand. He was gone. Peter Parker, the amazingly intelligent school kid who risked his life every day to save others, who never failed to be polite and sweet, even to his enemies. Who wore a glowing smile on his face every day, his dark, wavy hair pressed down with hair jell to keep it from sticking up. He was gone.

Tony shut his eyes, breathing deeply. His heart ached as memories of times with Peter that were either filled with an exchange of sarcastic remarks, then a burst of laughter at the other's put-on pettiness, or working together on a mission, working side-by-side. Spider-Man and Iron Man. Team mates.

Tony remembered one day - the two of them had been discussing upgrades for the Spider-Man suit, and Peter had suggested a ridiculous idea of having a laser-beam feature that shot out of his eyes as a taunt.

_"It'd be so cool, Mr. Stark! C'mon!"_

_"No, kid," Tony had laughed, playfully shoving Peter with his elbow._

_"No fair! Why does Vision get to have laser beams and stuff but I don't? That's discrimination."_

Peter had joked, and his face broke out into a toothy smile, his eyes creasing at the corners. Tony remembered looking at him and taking in his features - the darkness of his eyes, how they contrasted to the paleness of his skin, how when he smiled his eyes lit up like skylights. He remembered looking at the kid, and loving him like a son.

Tony smiled softly at the memory, but the warmth soon dropped as he returned his gaze to the now unmoving body of Peter Parker in front of him.

It was never supposed to end like this.

Mr. Stark took one last glance at the kid in front of him. He was nothing, now. Just the shell of a once incredible boy. He could already see the headlines: **IRON MAN FAILS TO SAVE 15 YEAR OLD SPIDER-MAN'S LIFE, AS HE DROWNS IN A RIVER.**

How fucking ridiculous was that?

This was all his fault. He should have been keeping an eye on him, even when he wasn't wearing the suit. He should have been keeping an eye on his mental state, as well as his physical.

The rain started to fall down harder as Tony pulls Peter into his arms. He ducked his head over him, shielding him from the rain as it bounces off his suit and onto the bank around them. Peter lay limp in Tony's arms, his head lolled back over the man's arm, dark hair matt down onto his forehead and plaid shirt sticking to his skin, soaked to the bone. One of his arms was draped protectively over his middle, as if he was curled in on himself, the other dangling loosely off him, his fingertips brushing the wet soil. His dark eyes gazing unseeingly upwards into the night sky, his lips a pale, unhealthy blue, skin cold as ice.

Tony bowed his head over the boy's body in grief. There was so much he wanted to say that he never had.

"Peter-" he sobbed. "I'm so sorry,"

 

 

 

 

"Then why did you let me fall?"


	2. Free Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting this many people to like the first chapter, and it means a lot to me reading all of your wonderful comments.
> 
> !!! As added in the tags, this chapter has a Suicide Trigger Warning, so if mentions of attempted suicide make you feel uncomfortable, I advise you do not read this chapter. There is nothing graphic, but I would hate to accidentally upset anyone.

 

_before_

  
Peter sat motionless on the edge of the bridge.

The kid's figure was silhouetted against the huge expanse of the evening sky behind him. It cast a pale, orange-pink light down onto him, the fluffy cream clouds prominent in the pastel sky. The barely-visible moon hung in the sky, watching as Peter sat staring aimlessly forwards, his mind blank. He heard nothing - he had his earphones shoved into his ears, [a beautiful melody](https://youtu.be/Fs6eUVHqBS4) playing into his head as he stared at the sunset.

 

Pulling out his phone, he saw that he had eight missed calls from Ned and three texts from Tony Stark.

_Tony: Hey, kid. I was just thinking that we haven't caught up in a while. Dinner tonight at 7:30? Happy will pick you up._

_Tony: Oh, by the way, your aunt called. She said that she received a call from your school saying that you hadn't gone into school today? She wanted me to go and look for you, but I assumed you were patrolling_

_Tony: Peter?_

  
Peter sighed, then typed a quick reply.

_everything's fine :)_

Then he returned his gaze to the colossal black void of water below him. It looked terrifying, but inviting.

As Peter sat on the edge of the bridge, staring downwards, he looked peaceful. Inside, however, were images that he would never forget. Images of death and war and suffering - nightmares of losing everyone he loved - dreams of being able to walk the earth freely again, and not having danger around every corner. It's funny how much he had always prayed to have this life - an Avenger - but now he had it, he wanted anything _but_ it.

He didn't care how weak he sounded... he couldn't take it.

Dreams aren't always what you wish they were.

Part of Peter wanted to just push himself off, and fall and fall and fall until he couldn't feel the empty ache in his chest anymore.

But another part of Peter didn't.

 

He picked up his phone again, and dialled Ned's number.

"Sup Peter?" Ned's familiar, soft voice crackled through, and Peter felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

"Hey buddy." Peter paused, taking a deep breath in. "I just... uh... wanted to say thanks. Y'know, for always being my guy-in-the-chair and looking out for me,"

"Oh, no problem dude. You know how much I love that anyways - plus, isn't that what best friends are for?" Ned said, and Peter could hear the light smile in his voice.

"Yeah. Smell you later, pal." Peter said, then pressed end call.

May.

"Hi sweetie, where are you? The school phoned me earlier saying you didn't come in... I supposed you went patrolling, how did it go? Oh! And I'm cooking your favourite for dinner tonight," her golden voice filled his ears.

"I'm actually staying at Ned's this evening, May, sorry." He lied quickly, and he almost heard her disappointment. "...But I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. For being difficult - I know it's hard living with a teenager, especially when... they're also Spider-Man... and thank you. For putting up with me." Peter forced himself to smile, then hung up before May could say anything.

Tony.

"You alright, kid?" Tony said, his raspy voice slightly muffled in the mic.

"Yeah... all good... just wanted to say thanks for letting me be Spider-Man and all. And meeting the team, working with you guys. It was really fun, and you were awesome." Peter said too-fast and ended the call, his voice breaking a little at the end.

He proceeded to drop his phone, letting it smash on the concrete of the bridge he sat on, and watch it sizzle and die.

He returned his gaze to the water.

It was talking to him.

It was singing.

 _Poor Peter Parker, oh so alone_  
_Has nobody to call his own_  
 _He has seen every battle_  
 _And seen every war_  
 _And sometimes he wonders..._  
 _What's he living for?_

 

Peter smiles, a single tear rolling down his cheek as the beautiful song of the water plays in his ears, then before he knows it, he's standing up on the edge of the bridge.

 

 _Everyone he's loved,_  
_Everyone he's lost._  
 _Being a hero_  
 _Comes with a cost._

 

The singing stops.

He can hear nothing but the wind blowing and a faint ringing in his ears. A light rain starts to fall as Peter steps forwards, and lets himself fall downwards. He can hear screaming - was it him? Whoever it was sounded terrified.

Then the screaming stopped, and...

Peter was flying.

He cracked his eyes open, and spread out his arms like wings. The colours of the evening danced around him, blurring and smudging together, merging with the tears falling from his eyes that he hadn't known were there.

Life was nothing but an oil painting.

He spun around, laughing breathlessly as he soared downwards towards the dark blue beneath him.

He glanced on either side of him - his wings were stunning... so strong and powerful.

This was amazing.

As he fell, everything that had ever caused him pain was ripped out of him, disappearing as he moved away from it. Every piece of guilt, shame, and anger and sadness.

He was free.

  
Flying...

 

              Flying...

  
       

     

                               Flying...

 

  
Smack.


	3. Warning Signs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all of your comments, they mean so much to me.
> 
> I was originally planning to take this chapter back to present day, but I decided not to. For those of you curious if Peter is alive or not, you can find out in the next chapter where we go back to the present day.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

  
_before_

Tony flew down the street briskly, phone in hand, worry engraved across his face.

He had received an alarming call from Peter. If you heard it in any other context, it would've sounded absolutely _lovely_ , but Tony of all people knew when something was wrong...

And something definitely was.

 

A little while ago, Tony had picked up the phone to hear Peter practically erupting with words - a load of thank you's, etcetera, but there was something in his voice that was off. Peter's voice never wavered, not once, but it was basically shaking in that one phone call. Tony had decided to leave it, until he received the call from May. It had gone something like this.

 

 

"Hello, Tony. It's May. I was just wondering if you'd heard anything from Peter?" Worry had been audible in her soft voice. "He told me was staying at Ned's tonight, but I called Ned's mom and she said he hadn't arrived. I thought he might have been with you?"

"No, he isn't here right now. Did Peter say anything else to you?" Tony had replied.

"Yes. Well, hardly anything, but something about how he was sorry that I had to put up with him. And he was thanking me. It was a little odd, but I didn't think anything of it. Is something wrong, Tony?" She said, emphasising the last sentence. It sent a shiver down Tony's spine.

"Okay. I'll try and find him, May, but I assure you that your nephew can take care of himself. I'm sure he's fine," Tony had hung up, then. That's when he had started to worry.

Then he had phoned Ned.

"Hey this is Ned Leeds who is this?" Ned said, the sound of a TV playing in the background. "If you want my PS4 I've decided I'm not selling it anymore so-"

"It's Tony Stark." Tony said brusquely. Ned had shut up immediately.

"O-oh. Oh no... something's happened to Peter hasn't it?" Ned had said, voice just above a whisper. "I knew something was off when he called me earlier-" those last words made Tony's blood ran cold. That was all he needed to hear, yet exactly what he hadn't wanted to hear. It only clarified one thing. With no further explanation, he ended the call, suited up and began to track Peter's phone. It was the best way to find him, considering it was the last thing he had used when anyone had heard anything from him.

 

 

And now, here we are. Tony shooting across Queens in search of the boy who he had vowed to keep safe.

As the man scanned the city below him, a few different thoughts crossed his mind of what could have happened.

 

1\. Peter could have just had an existential crisis, and realised that he owed a thank-you to everyone and called his loved ones just out of pure kindness.

  
2\. He could have been kidnapped, and he wanted to blurt out his last words before he died.

  
3\. He might... Tony couldn't even bring himself to think it - it made his stomach turn.

 

Then his tracker beeped, and he landed on a bridge. The sky was dark, and a very light rain had started to fall. In the black sky, Tony could see the vague remnants of earlier's beautiful sunset.

He froze. Peter's phone was on the ground, smashed. It was a Stark Phone that Tony had given him a while ago, to make contact easier.

Tony's stomach lurched as he peered over the edge of the bridge, fearing the worst.

"FRIDAY, scan for life signs." He mustered.

"Okay, boss." FRIDAY replied, too cheerfully.

There was a pause, then a deep red shape appeared in the water below. Before Tony thought twice, he was launching himself off the bridge and soaring downwards, arms poised like an athlete. He connected with the water perfectly, hardly causing a ripple, and disappeared under the waves. He propelled himself forwards, until he neared the blue body of Peter Parker, blending in with the water.

He hung slackly beneath the surfacer, his mop of dark hair across his eyes and tiny bubbles outlining his face. His eyes were open and staring, out into nothingness, although as Tony swam nearer he felt as though they were staring right at him. The void of water around him pulled him deeper, his hands shrivelled and mouth open slightly. He looked so young, so small.

The scene before Tony was like one of those rare paintings you see every now and then in an art gallery. But there's only ever _one_ like it. One that stands out from all the others, because of its beauty but how dark it was, disturbing your mind and sitting in the back of your memory, kindling your thoughts at random times. Disturbing, but peaceful.

Peter looked like a painting.

His skin looked so white and fragile, as though he could just break at any second, his lips a pink as pale as a fallen petal from a dead flower. The water was so enormous and dark, it's unforgiving embrace pulling him into the darkness and never removing its talons from his heart.

But he looked like he was just  _sleeping._

When Tony was next to him, he scooped him up, and took off out of the water. _No time. No time. Too late. He was too late._

He burst out of the water, Peter hanging limply in his arms, and held him so that his head was out of the water, an arm around his shoulder. He was so cold.

"FRIDAY run vitals. Quickly," He commanded, taking in the crowd of people that had gathered on the bridge high above them. _Forget them. Focus on Peter. You can deal with the press later._

"Victim appears to be suffering multiple breaks to his limbs - one on his right arm, and two on his right leg. A broken collarbone and two broken ribs, flooded lungs and a concussion."

" _Pulse_. Does he have a pulse?"

"No pulse detected. It appears that the impact with the water killed him immediately." FRIDAY said calmly.

Tony's chest constricted and his heart snapped.

He couldn't die. No. No. _No!_ It just couldn't happen - this kid had so much potential, he was so kind, so _clever_ \- this couldn't happen. Why had he jumped? Why hadn't Tony ever noticed the signs of suicidal behaviour before? He of all people should have seen this coming...

He should have been there.

He pulled the boy out the rest of the way, hands hooked under his armpits, the kid's plaid shirt soaked straight through, head lolling around as he pulled him to the water bank.

He dropped to his knees beside Peter, and gaped, his eyes filmed over with tears threatening to spill.

He couldn't believe his eyes... he had never believed this day would come... kneeling beside Peter Parker's unmoving body, praying for him to wake up, wishing that he'd been stronger. Why hadn't Peter just _told_ him? However shit at comforting someone Tony was, he could have _tried._  Peter was so tiny, so young, so fragile. He could have broken at any minute, and Tony had let him smash.

 

This just wasn't _fair._

 

 

 


	4. Why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter opens up.  
> How does Tony take it?  
> Does he take it at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, here's the new chapter.  
> Thanks again for all of your comments, they mean so much to me, I love you all so much.  
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you'll enjoy it.

 

 

  
_now_

 

 

Tony froze at the sound of Peter's voice.

He lifted his head up slowly, and was met with the glassy, weak eyes of the kid who had just drowned.

"P-Peter?!" He spluttered. Tony was lost for words - utterly dumbfounded. He had tried to revive him, but it hadn't worked, Peter had _literally died_ in his arms... this was completely impossible... This was completely _utterly_ impossible...

Peter didn't reply, but furrowed his eyebrows slightly, his unfocused eyes trailing over Tony's face as though he was reading every line of worry that showed. Then he sighed and loosened up slightly in Tony's grip, an unreadable expression cast on his still-pale face.

They had no more conversation as Tony's faceplate closed and he took off from the muddy bank, Peter still hanging in his arms, unresponsive, staring aimlessly out into the dark sky. He looked so lost and sad, the heavy rain hiding the tears that were streaming down his face. Something like sheer disappointment was dancing behind his eyes.

"Peter," Tony started, his voice wavering slightly, almost inaudible from the wind and rain around them. "How do you feel?" He asked. Peter didn't reply. Tony decided that there was no point in questioning how he had survived; it was a miracle. He was alive... however impossible, Peter had survived, and Tony was not going to question it. He clung onto the boy for a few seconds, until he was broken again out of his thoughts when Peter started to shiver violently. He began to fly faster, the rain still hammering down.

But Peter didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything.

He let the cold wrap its unforgiving arms around him as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

~

The first thing the kid registered was the smell.

The smell of melted chocolate. Warm, sweet, chocolate, like the smell when Aunt May baked a cake. It smelt like home.

The next thing that snaked into his foggy mind was the softness of whatever he lay on. It was definitely not his bed - it was the feeling of expensive bed covers, the glorious cotton so soft on his bare legs. Why wasn't he wearing any pants? Cracking his eyes open, he peered under the white duvet and saw that on his right leg below the knee was a long cut stretching from the bottom of his knee cap to his ankle, the skin around it still raw. But it was a surgical cut - with stitches, and it had almost healed, the skin already threading together. Peter guessed it was a break. He then scanned his torso, a bandage covering his right side, and the skin slightly bruised around the edges - he also could feel a sharp pain when he breathed in and out, and he saw that his right arm was broken and in a sling. He could hardly feel the pain anymore, however, because his healing factor had clearly already covered most of the damage. Various wires were attached to his chest, and... he was tied to the bed.

Panic started to rise in his chest. He was stuck, trapped. He didn't even know how he had got here, or where he was... what if he'd been kidnapped? The beep of his heart beat on the heart monitor next to him picked up pace dramatically, and he heard footsteps outside, and muffled voices. He braced himself.

"Peter?" Tony stepped in. Peter's eyes widened. That he had not expected. "Hey, kid, calm down. It's just me. You're here in the tower, you're safe." He said softly - Peter had never heard him talk like this before. The man walked over slowly, the manoeuvred Peter so that he no longer felt like he was trapped. The wires had just been tangled up, that was all.

"What happened?" Peter croaked, he felt like his voice hadn't been used in a thousand years.

"You don't remember anything?" Tony inquired, taking a seat next to the bed.

Peter shook his head.

"You fell. Off a bridge, in the middle of the city. I don't know how - we're still trying to piece everything together, to see who pushed you, but once your memory comes back, it would be really useful if you could tell us anything you remember." Tony said quietly, with a weird look on his face. Was it concern? Suspicion? Peter wasn't sure. But one thing he was sure of - he remembered what happened.

As soon as Tony had spoken of the bridge, everything had come flooding back.

The kid let out a small whimper. It hadn't worked. He had tried to jump - to end it all, but he had failed. There was nothing more humiliating than that.

"Peter?" Tony leaned closer, worry spiking at Peter's strange response. The boy didn't answer, but his eyebrows knitted together and tears pooled in his eyes, threatening to spill. Damn it... he didn't want to be crying.

"Hey, it's okay..." Tony awkwardly placed a hand on his shoulder, and patted it twice, then scooted closer to the bed. "I'm guessing it's all coming back now, eh?"

Peter nodded.

Should he lie? He wasn't sure that Tony would believe him if he made something up, also... what would it even be? He couldn't just make up a person that pushed him off the bridge, but he also couldn't tell Tony the truth... or could he? What would he think? Peter could already see the disgusted look on his face now. He couldn't do it.

"You need to tell me what happened." Tony pressed, "Who pushed you? You know I'll kill them once I find out who they are."

But Peter _hadn't_ been pushed off the bridge, or fallen off... he had jumped, and Mr. Stark would never forgive him for that. God... this was so hard. Peter just wanted to sleep, and never wake up... he didn't want to deal with this problem. Without meaning to, he let out a sob, and before he knew it tears were falling from his eyes and he was gasping and shaking with sobs. He vaguely felt warm hands on his shoulders, lifting him upright, then being enclosed in a hug, a calloused hand splayed on his back, holding him up. Peter cried, and kept crying into Tony's white shirt, soaking it with sorrow.

"It's alright Peter, it's alright," Tony soothed as he rubbed Peter's back softly, trying to calm him down. "Take your time, kid, as soon as you can-" Tony was interrupted.

"No-one pushed me, okay?" Peter blurted out.

"What do you mean, kid? What happened then?" Tony's voice was laced with worry.

"I... I'm so sorry Mr. Stark-" he broke out into another round of sobs, and mustered an almost incoherent sentence. "I wasn't pushed, and I didn't f-fall... I jumped." However inaudible his voice was in between sobs, Tony Stark heard him loud and clear. He froze, and pulled away from Peter, two hands planted firmly - almost painfully - on his shoulders.

"You _what_?" He snapped.

Peter broke.

He knew Tony would hate him. Find him disgusting, pointless. _What was the point in being Spider-Man if you're just going to take your own life? You're so selfish, Peter. How could you do that? To your friends? To your aunt? To me?_ Peter could hear Tony say the words without him even opening his mouth. It was too much. He just wanted everything to stop, stop, stopstopstopstopstop-

"Kid, stop!" Tony shouted, shaking Peter. He must have been panicking, because the look of concern on Tony's face and the tightened grip on his shoulders told him so. "It's okay. You can talk to me." He said. His voice was soft, softer than it had been before, but his words were still tight and terse.

"I can't, do this..." Peter mustered, still trying to calm his breathing. Tony rubbed his arms, trying to ground him. Peter's lips were tinged slightly blue, and his eyelids were heavy, but Tony needed him awake.

"Yes, you can. Peter, just tell me..." he paused, sighing. "Just tell me _why_ ,"

Peter dragged his gaze up to meet Tony's, and he saw something new. It wasn't the usual concern, dad-like worry that Tony had for Peter, that he tried so hard to hide behind his dark eyes. It wasn't anger, either. It wasn't even disappointment.

It was sadness.

The way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, where his eyebrows were ever-so slightly furrowed at the centre, a sharp but soft stare piercing his eyes. Mouth slightly turned down at the sides, a defeated look flashing across his face.

It was gone as soon as it came.

 

And Peter split open.

 

"Because I can't do this anymore, Mr. Stark. Because every day I wake up, go to school dreading not only the boring day ahead, but the jackass who bullies me and makes fun of me in front of everyone every day. Then I come home from school, have the most boring conversation with May which consists mostly of her asking me about damn exams, then I put on the suit and I go out. I patrol for hours. I stop petty theft, I stop stupid assholes from stealing old women's purses, and I stop drunks from driving unsafely and strangers from causing chaos. Yeah, that's all great, but sometimes I can't do it. I'm not there in time. What if one day someone _dies_ because of me? Well, not to worry, because that's already happened _more_ than enough times. I've messed up, and I can't afford to do that, Mr. Stark. Sometimes I just want to be doing more." Peter paused, taking a breath. "And then, when I actually get round to doing more... I screw up. I screw up so bad, and I make everyone angry. You... the whole team. Literally everyone. The only times I ever get to actually do something that will mean something, I go ahead and mess it up like a fucking idiot.

"Oh, and then there's the things I see. Yeah, I get it. Being an Avenger and fighting alongside you guys means that we're gonna see all kinds of disturbing shit along the way, but no matter how hard I try to be; it gets to me. I'm fifteen, and I hate it. I hate being a useless, clueless, dumb kid. ' _Oh, we shouldn't have brought Peter, he'll only get hurt.' 'Oh, it must've been Peter...'_ I'm just done with it. Okay? All of it. I've seen too much, been through too much for my short lifetime. I can't bear the weight of it, no matter how strong I pretend to be. I don't like who I am, and I am worthless. Sometimes I'll just sit at home, staring blankly at the wall. What's the point in anything? Why do I exist? No reason. I'm no-one, and I'm nothing. I'm a mere particle in this colossal universe. I don't want to be here anymore.

"And you know what else I realised? That I am not strong and brave. I am not courageous. I am not who I want to be. I am not Spider-Man. I'm just Peter Parker, living inside a comic book. And that comic book is finished,"

Peter stopped talking and tore his eyes away from Tony's. He had said it. Everything. Yet he still felt like there was so much more to say, but at the same time that he had been tipped upside down and shaken until all of his insides had come out. It felt to weird to have said it.

Tony didn't say anything in return, however. He simply stood up, and left the room without a word.

 

Peter watched him go.

 

Peter watched as he never came back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Tony come back? What do you guys think?


	5. I’m Going Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter thinks he’s going crazy and he feels oh so alone, but he doesn’t realise the amount of people that are there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while, sorry.  
> I didn’t have much inspiration for writing and schools been very busy, but here it is, the new chapter.  
> Also, I know this is quite short and I’m not sure about it - if you could let me know what you think, that would be really helpful. I don’t have a beta, so any mistakes are mine (and there’s probably a lot of them).  
> Thank you again for all of your comments; they mean the world to me.

It took three weeks.

Three weeks for Tony to get his shit together and come to talk to Peter.

Three weeks of Peter slowly feeling more and more alone, believing that opening up to Tony had been the worst possible thing to do. Three weeks of complete regrets.

Peter had left the compound the day after he 'fell'. He had gone straight back to school, no questions - it wasn't like aunt May was going to stop him anyway- she didn't know what had happened. He didn't plan on her finding out, either.

Ned, however, had pretty much worked it out from the two phone calls he got on the day - the thankful but apologetic one from Peter, then the desperate and worried one from Tony. Really, you didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to work out what Peter had done - tried to do.

Now, as Peter sat in his English class listening to his incredibly boring teacher droning on about the romantic, tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet, Ned sat directly next to him, their shoulders lightly touching. The kid's best friend had pretty much insisted on being like Peter's bodyguard. Whether it was to keep Peter safe, or to reassure him that he was there - it did both. Ned hadn't even questioned him about what had happened; the haunted look in Peter's eyes and the way he ducked his head as he walked through the school hallways, avoiding eye contact, never speaking, was enough to scream that something was wrong. Peter was never one to talk much, but it'd never been like this.

Then, Ned being Ned, he had worked out the rest, and he'd known that Peter wouldn't want to talk about it, and respected that. Now he stuck right by him, always a hand on his shoulder when he began to panic, a hug when tears filled his eyes, a light tug on his elbow pulling him to the boy's bathroom when he felt his legs giving out in the corridor.

All that had been happening for three weeks - and although Peter had had no word from Tony, he couldn’t say it was the worst three weeks of his life. He had Ned, and that was what mattered.

This English lesson is so excruciatingly boring, Peter thought as he stared blankly ahead, I may as well just whip out my web shooters, tie a noose with them and hang myself right here and now. Peter laughed at himself, then frowned. God, that was a dark joke, even if he had only said it inside his head. Was he loosing his mind? He caught his reflection in the window beside him, and a shiver ran down his spine at the sight of him. He hadn’t been looking after himself at all; his hair was greasy and matted down, eyes hollowed like tunnels, unwashed clothes hanging off of his thin frame. He looked like a corpse.

Peter abruptly turned his head back towards the classroom in front of him, trying to change his mind.

He was tired, so so tired. And there were these lyrics to a song he couldn’t name running through his head, over and over again, bouncing from ear to ear repetitively.

  
_Baby I could play guitar like Hendrix or save the world from ending..._

Tears filled Peter’s eyes.

_Then baby they’ll remember me when I’m gone,_

_That’s all that I could ever want._

  
Peter closed his eyes. He couldn’t cry. Not now - he had to stay strong just for a little longer. There was only thirty minutes left of the lesson, he could push through it. Couldn’t he?

  
_Cause I just wanna die before my heart fails from heartbreak and cocktails,_

_Then maybe you’ll cry once you know I’m gone,_

_That’s all I could ever want._

_Yeah, that’s all I want._

 

  
He let out a sob.

 

  
_Cause I ain’t scared of living._

 

 

Then comes in the electric guitar, strumming along with the bass and drums in the back. Bouncing from ear to ear. _I’m not scared of living. Remember me when I’m gone._

Please.

Peter didn’t want to be forgotten, he didn’t want to be a nobody. That was his worst fear.

Peter opened his eyes at the feeling of movement. After a moment of completely disorientation, he found himself in the boy’s toilets, on the ground, dried tears on his cheeks and his chest heaving. That was one more thing - losing time. He would often panic, close his eyes then open them and be somewhere he didn’t remember getting to. Now, the familiar sight of Ned’s furrowed eyebrows and worried face in front of him.

“Peter?” Ned’s voice came out distorted, too-deep, then too-high. He kept coming in and out of focus. “Are you with me?”

“W-what happened?” Peter croaked. God, he hated this. It was so embarrassing, although Ned had seen him like this more than enough times recently.

His friend sighed, and pulled Peter into a hug.

“Same as always, buddy. Hey, I was thinking we could just take the rest of the day off. Just sneak of our school and go grab some lunch, no one will notice.” Ned smiled, and Peter returned it.

“You’re the best, Ned.” Peter let Ned pull him up, and they left the school together stealthily, although the staff were too idiotic to notice them anyway.

-

Two hours later, Ned and Peter sat in Starbucks drinking their fourth Pumpkin Spice Latte each, wearing matching T-shirts with a periodic table in comic strip style drawing with a lime green background. Pretty cool.

They were laughing at a stupid joke Ned had made, just as the door of the cafe flew open and a gust of wind blew in, and there stood Tony Stark, heroic as ever.

Peter gaped at the door.

The man wore blue reflective sunglasses, a tight-fitting black and red suit with a white bow tie and insanely pointy shoes. Insanely. Like, you could _stab_ someone with those fuckers-

“Eyes are up here, kiddo.” Tony said suddenly, and Peter saw that he was next to him now. Loss of time. Again. God, this was really getting the better of him, whatever it was. Peter was sure he was going insane.

“ _Kid_.” Tony repeated, and Peter jerked his gaze up to meet his. The boy heard Ned get up from opposite to him slowly, nodding subtly and leaving them to it. How was it that Ned always knew the right thing to do to make things easier for Peter?

Tony took a seat opposite him, and placed two hands on the table. He removed his sunglasses, and looked Peter in the eye.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I-“ Peter started.

“No.” Tony interrupted sternly. “I’m sorry.” He paused, breathing in. “I’m sorry. You have every right to hate me with everything in you, and I accept that. I just needed... time, alright? And I was stupid. I only thought about myself, because that’s all I am, all I’ve ever been. A stupid, selfish man. But you, kid... something about you, made me feel different. I want to...” he stopped, as though he couldn’t quite find the right words. “I want to protect you. To help you, Peter. And now that I’m back, I’ll do whatever I can to get you through this. Okay?”

Peter didn’t answer, he just hung his head. Why had this happened so fast? Had he lost time again? Or what? Something else? Or was everything just moving by in a blur?

“I’ve gone crazy, Mr. Stark,” Peter mustered. “I keep... I keep losing it. I don’t know if I’m having a breakdown, or what, but I just have these moments where I feel like the walls are closing in on me and I can’t breathe. And then there’s the loss of time - I’ll find myself in one place, then open my eyes without even realising I closed them and be somewhere else. It’s like I black out, and I don’t know what happened in between. My head feels heavy, and I just want to sleep. You have no idea how humiliating it is to be me, after what... after what happened.”

Tony nodded.

“I’m going to tell you again, kid. I want to help you. Will you let me help you?”

Peter didn’t reply.

“Okay?”

It took a while, but there it was.

 

“Okay.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song from the beginning is:  
> Rock + Roll, by EDEN


	6. Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Peter's condition worsens, Tony and Bruce begin to suspect that something else is at play here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this one now, simply because I am really proud of it.  
> I had so much fun writing this chapter, and the ending honestly gave me shivers so I hope it does the same for you.

 

 

Everything hurt.

 

There was blood everywhere, on his clothes, in his pores, behind his eyes.

 

And there, on the floor, slack and lifeless, lay the body of Tony Stark.

 

"Mr-Mr. Stark?" Peter's voice shook and his legs were unsteady as he stumbled towards the body of his hero. His knees threatened to buckle, guiding him to the ground beside the man. A bullet hole penetrated his forehead, and a dazed, blank look in his eyes. Peter pressed his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut as he doubled over the man, tears now falling freely from his eyes. Wretched sobs wracked his small frame, shaking and terrified, holding onto Tony like a lifeline. Not him, please. Not _him._ Oh God... he couldn't stop crying. Please...

 

"Peter?" Tony's voice smashed through his thoughts, and his eyes sprung open.

 

"Mr. Stark... you're alive!" He screamed, and hugged him, more tears beginning to fall.

 

"Peter!" He was shouting now. Why was he shouting?

 

 

"Peter, wake up!" Tony yelled finally and Peter jolted upright. He found himself in an unknown room on a bed with clean white sheets, a single photo hanging in a frame on the wall opposite the bed. Other than that, the room was empty. Oh, and except for Tony.

 

He sat on the edge of the bed, gripping Peter's shoulder tightly, a worried expression cast across his features. Oh, not again... another nightmare. Peter expected he was in the compound, in one of Tony's rooms. He vaguely remembered Tony calling May to tell her he would be working on a project there for a few days, just so that Tony could help him get better. Peter hadn't wanted to do it at first - the conversation had been filled with loads of _I'm fine_ 's and telling Tony that he'd be okay; but now he'd gone and had a stupid nightmare. And scared Tony again. _Again._

 

Peter couldn't catch his breath, as he started to cry harder. For God's sake... this was so embarrassing. The amount of times Tony had to save Peter, whether it was from himself or from immediate danger, it was too much. It wasn't fair on Tony.

 

"Kid, breathe." Tony soothed, and brushed Peter's hair back with one hand. "It's okay, we all have bad dreams. Some of us live in them,"

 

"I'm so sorry... this is the worst thing ever. I don't want to be a bother, I-I just-"

 

Tony shushed him, then pulled him into a hug. Peter gripped the back of the man's shirt, then did a double take as he felt Tony's hands holding onto the back of his T-shirt too, just as tightly. As though if he let go, Peter would just disappear. Then Peter realised - Tony had literally held him as the life had been sucked from his lungs, he had breathed that life back in and been terrified of losing the idiotic, reckless fifteen year old as the compressions did nothing and Peter lay limp in his arms, soaked to the bone from the freezing water of the river he'd jumped into. Tony cared about him.

 

"What was the nightmare about, kid?" He said softly.

 

"I-it's just stupid, it's no big deal, really, I'm fine..." Peter trailed off and stopped speaking as a breath caught in his throat. He didn't want Tony to know about his stupid dreams. They were pathetic, and stupid, and lame. Losing everyone you love was such a typical dream to have, and the man would surely laugh at him. But... why wouldn't he stop crying? The kid heard Tony talking to him, but the words didn't make sense. He couldn't breathe - why couldn't he _breathe_? He scrunched his eyes shut, and everything blanked out.

 

"...eter?" Tony's voice shattered into the dark of Peter's clouded mind. He opened his eyes, and was disorientated for about three seconds before he registered that he had moved rooms, and was now on a couch, lying belly-up, with two men who appeared to be Tony and Bruce Banner crouching next to his head. He sighed. Loss of time, again. Everything in his head was so confusing and messed up - it was hard to distinguish what was real life and what was a dream.

 

"Thank God, Peter, you scared the shit out of me," Tony said, his voice still slightly muffled by the ringing in Peter's ears. He didn't mean to keep doing this.

 

"S-sorry," He started, but his voice didn't quite make it out. Was he dying?

 

"No, kid. You aren't dying." Bruce's voice broke through Peter's thoughts. Or words - he seemed to have said that out loud. "You just blacked out. You're alright though, okay?"

 

"This isn't real life," Peter stuttered as he pushed himself upright. "I'm dreaming. This isn't real life. You aren't real.  I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. I'm always dreaming, why am I never awake? Why does everything feel fake?" The words tumbled from Peter's mouth, his eyes wide and pupils minute with terror. He couldn't even feel the sofa beneath him. Then there were more hands on his arms, guiding him to lie back down on the couch. He was crying, but there were no tears. Every breath he took was ragged, but he felt outside of himself.

 

"Get him to the med bay. I'll be down in a second, okay? Call cap." Bruce said brusquely, then jogged out of the room, Peter felt a hand underneath his knees, and one on his back, lifting him off the sofa. He felt paralysed.

 

"It's alright Peter, you're gonna be okay, just stay with me, alright?" Tony pleaded as he ran down the corridors swiftly. The kid lay in his arms, his eyes open but he was unresponsive, and he couldn't see. Was he blind? Then everything was gone.

 

-

 

Before he knew it, he was in the med bay with more people around him than there was before. Cap was there, and... he blacked out again.

 

-

 

The next time Peter woke up, the room was empty, and it was dark. How long had he been out? The kid found himself connected to a heart monitor and some kind of IV thing... with a tube attached to his arm, and a breathing mask over his mouth. He recognised the heavy feeling of his head to be from morphine. _Christ..._ they'd had to actually _put_ him to sleep. Peter hoped he hadn't done anything... out of hand. He only just remembered what had happened, and it was so vague that he couldn't even scan his memory. He hated this so much - he didn't even know what was happening to him. He just wanted everything to stop. This was worse than he had ever felt before he had jumped. This was worse than _dying._

 

"...t's exactly what I thought," Muffled voices came from the room next door, and Peter strained to hear what they were saying.

 

"While he was unconcious, I checked his REM. His pupils are far too dialated, and when he sleeps it's as though he is comatose, but he wakes up just as anyone else would after a nap. It's strange, but I'm looking into it, I promise. I know you care about this kid, Tony, even if you don't say so. We all saw how you were when you brought him back after... the incident." The voice stopped, and Peter winced. He hated what he'd done to Tony, and would do anything to take it back, to plan out the sitaution better - just so that he hadn't called anyone. Or-

 

"..think he's been drugged," Someone said.

 

"What? That doesn't even make sense. Being suicidal isn't the same as being drugged, as much as I'm sure you'd like it to be."

 

"No, because look at what I just said. Everything about his state, about _him_. Tony, you said he told you something about blacking out or losing time, right?"

 

"Yes..."

 

"Well? That doesn't just _happen_ , does it? And picture how he was before. He was always so lively, and happy, and talkative. Listen to the phone calls again. That's not Peter talking, that's someone else."

 

There was a pause.

 

"So, you're saying that someone has _drugged_ this random kid to make him jump off a bride? I don't think so,"

 

"I don't know yet, for sure. But I'm working on it. You know tech nowadays, what people can do with it. If the wrong person found out Peter's little Spider-Man secret, they could use anything to get rid of him. Take him out when he's not expecting it; when no-one else is either, with something that no one would see coming. Think about it. The worst kind of tech in the wrong person's hands, they can do anything."

 

"This is ridiculous."

 

"It's really not. Trust me. Think about it - the kid's got hardly any protection other than the suit, and someone could easily find him changing into the suit in an alley. He's reckless; doesn't think, someone could find him."

 

"And with what you're saying, someone already has."

 

"Yes."

 

"You know more about this than me, Bruce. How would the drug last this long? It's been almost a month since-"

 

"I don't know, but I'm working on it, alright? I'm suspecting that somehow this person is getting to Peter on a regular basis, somehow or other, and finding a way to get the drug to him. Whether it's at school, in a drink in the cafeteria, or at home when he's asleep. You did the right thing keeping him here, Tony. While he's back at home, whoever is doing this can get to him easily. Just think about the tech that we have here, the amount of defenses we have and the dangerous weaponry, and how they could be used in the wrong hands if someone got to them, or somehow created something like them."

 

"Okay..."

 

"I might be wrong. I could _easily_ be wrong, but we're going to try and help this kid out, right? So I'm doing my part, and trying to find out what's caused this. And before you start, I _know_ that this isn't normal. There _is_ something else going on here. No-one as happy and cheerful as Peter Parker decides they want do die in less than a day, unless someone's messed with their brain chemistry."

 

This didn't make sense, Peter thought foggily. He obviously hadn't been drugged - he would _know_ if someone was putting something in his drinks, or especially if they were coming into his house at night. Most nights he would be out patrolling, anyway. This was bullshit - it was insane. Made absolutely _no_ sense, at _all_. Peter pursed his lips, as an almost inaudible creak came out of the pitch darkness of the room he was in. _Stop_. He was just imagining things. This stupid converstion he'd overheard was really starting to irritate him. The other thing pissing him off was how dark it was - did they really  _have_ to put him in pitch darkness? He couldn't get his eyes to focus properly, but he could just about make out a closed door next to him, with a long black coat hanging on it, brushing the ground, and another door opposite the bed where the voices were coming from. Then the conversation was back, pulling him out of his thoughts.

 

"...ut it still doesn't make sense. Why would they want Peter?"

 

"Because, as I already said, he's Spider-Man."

 

"But he's anonymous. That makes no sense for som...one to just _find out._ "

 

"You're not lis...e..ning t... e.." The conversation began to break up as Peter felt his eyelids growing heavy again.

 

But he wasn't even tired... he'd been asleep for hours. _No_. He wanted to hear the rest of the conversation...

 

Then, just as Peter's eyes slipped closed and he fell back into unconciousness, out of the corner of his eye he saw that the long black coat which had been hanging on the door next to him was gone, and the door was slightly ajar.

 

 

 

 


	7. I Don’t Believe You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter starts to believe the seemingly impossible, as Tony’s train of thought goes in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! The show must go on...  
> So I read that a couple of you weren’t so happy with the plot twist, but most of the rest of you were, so I’m going to work with that. The two of you that didn’t like it seemed to be offended of how I dealt with the issue of mental illness - how I write is usually from personal experience. Every emotion that I have written that Peter has felt is based off of how I have felt previously, dealing with my own problems, and i am sorry if that didn’t work out for you.  
> But thank you all again for your lovely comments and feedback - it means so much to me.
> 
> I’m sorry that this chapter is quite short and not much happens, I promise more will be happening in the next one. I’m very busy with school etc at the moment.  
> Note also that I am exhausted right now, and it’s hard to type while I’m falling asleep. Fun :)
> 
> Also. If any of you have any questions about the story, please comment and I’ll try my best to explain as well as I can. I’m trying to make the story as understandable as possible. Thanks.  
> Okay, I think that’s all. Let’s go.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

 

 

 

Peter Parker woke up.

His head felt foggy and his eyes wouldn’t open, but he was awake.

“Kid?” Tony’s voice crackled into his ears, a little too loudly, and the kid winced. “Are you with us?”

Us? Oh yeah. Peter remembered - last night, a bunch of the team had been down here. Talking with Tony; Peter remembered bits of the conversation that he’d overheard. Something about Peter being drugged, that these weren’t his natural emotions... frankly, that was offensive.

“Peter, I know you’re awake.” Bruce’s voice came from his right, slightly more soft than Tony’s. “Open your eyes,”

No. Peter didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t even want to be in the same room as someone who had ideas as ludicrous as the ones he’d heard last night. Yeah, he hadn’t been allowed to be eavesdropping on them, but they were talking so loudly. And about him.

“Please, Kiddo.” Tony’s voice again, a change in the tone tugging on Peter’s heart. A little like the exasperated sound his voice had had in the conversation. Why did he keep remembering that? It was almost as if his brain was subconsciously trying to get him to remember something. But Peter had fallen asleep so quickly last night, there was nothing to remember.

And then he _did_ remember.

It sent a shiver down Peter’s spine as he recalled the dark shape silhouetted on the door being there one second, then gone the next. Sure, it could easily have been the kid’s half-conscious mind playing tricks on him, but for the whole time he’d been awake he’d thought that dark shape was a coat hanging up.

And in that last moment before he fell asleep, the coat had been gone and the door left open. Last he checked, coats couldn’t walk out of rooms by themselves.

No. No. Stupid, stupid. He was only thinking like that because he was Paranoid and still half asleep.

Asleep - he had fallen asleep so quickly. Unnaturally quickly. Almost as if...

_“I think he’s been drugged..... Whether it's at school, in a drink in the cafeteria, or at home when he's asleep. You did the right thing keeping him here, Tony. While he's back at home, whoever is doing this can get to him easily.”_

If this person had gotten to Peter, turned up the morphine in his oxygen mask by 10%, or slipped something else in there...

No. They had said that no one could get to him here. Why was Peter even buying into this shit? But whoever this was had got to him anyway.

Peter’s eyes shot open and he bolted upright in the bed.

“Jesus! Peter?” Tony lunges forwards and latched onto the kid’s arm, tilting his chin to look him in the eye. “Are you alright?”

“N-no. Mr. Stark - something’s wrong!” Peter blurted out. Was this completely crazy? He’d thought the idea was when he’d overheard the conversation, but as more and more memories came back from last night, the puzzle seemed to come together.

“What is it? Bruce, what’s wrong with him?” Tony asked desperately.

“No! Mr. Stark, please - I - someone -“

“Shh. It’s okay, Bruce is just about to up your medication.”

“ _No!_ ” Peter shouted, plunging the room into silence. “Please,” he panted, “you have to listen to me.”

“Okay, kid, slow down. What’s happened? Another nightmare?”

“No. Someone was in here, last night. I think they messed with the morphine or whatever it is you guys give me.”

Tony sighed, giving Bruce a look that said leave us alone for a minute. Peter knew that look, and he dreaded it.

“I-I overheard your conversation last night. I thought it was all bullshit at first, but then-“

“Oh, God. I knew you wouldn’t have been sleeping. Typical Parker to be eavesdropping on Avengers conversation,” Tony gritted his teeth and smiled lightly.

“Mr. Stark, I’m serious. Please. I think someone was in the room without me knowing - it was so dark in there, I could hardly see.”

“Yeah, sure. Alright, kiddo. Let your imagination be free, okay? You were right the first time, it is all bullshit. I talked it through with Bruce afterwards and he agrees now so it’s-“

“No! Mr. Stark, i-it’s not fine. It’s not alright. There was someone there, I’m sure of it. Please - you have to listen to me!” Peter pleaded.

“Sorry, kid. Looks like all this medicine has taken its toll on you - maybe we’ll cut down on it. It could be messing with your brain.” Tony left the room.

 _“...messing with his brain chemistry...”_ Peter remembered more of the conversation. More and more of it made sense. But Peter wished it didn’t.

Great, and now Tony didn’t even have a single chance of believing him either. Peter sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to think. God, this was so hard.

And then something fogged over his mind again, and Peter couldn’t open his eyes. He felt paralysed, and sleep tugged at his now exhausted mind. The last thing he heard were footsteps walking away.

 

And he slept.

 

 


	8. Ash and Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping, again as the rain begins to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter.  
> I hope this one makes sense, but at the moment I’m really tired (literally all the time) so it’s getting harder to write. At least it’s easy to write as Peter in this current situation, though...  
> As I said, there will be more action to come, but I am still building up the story now.
> 
> Sorry this is so short.
> 
> Thanks again for all of your comments, they mean so much to me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

“...eter,”

“...eter!”

“Peter, wake up!”

“W-what?” Peter came to groggily, finding Tony Stark’s hands on his shoulders, shaking him. “What happened?”

“Get up,” Tony dragged the boy out of the hospital bed, pulling him by the arm down winding hallways, Peter’s mind still asleep as he was yanked down the corridor. It was only once the layer of fog in his eyes and heavy weight across his forehead was lifted, did he notice the flashing red lights and blaring sirens, the distant robotic voice of FRIDAY repeating the command to evacuate the building.

“Kid, we have to hurry,” Tony had started sprinting, and Peter was still struggling to keep up as his knees buckled and he still felt extremely disoriented.

Then suddenly they were outside in the blinding morning light. Great, another black out. _Jesus_... the sun was so bright Peter thought that his eyes would literally burn out of his skull.

He could vaguely see a few of the Avengers in a line staring up at the building they had just ran out of, a light warm glow on their faces. Peter stumbled forward slightly, then turned around clumsily, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

The entire building was engulfed in dark flames. These weren’t even just any flames - these were the strangest, darkest ones the kid had ever seen. Smoke was billowing out into the sky, plunging the small crowd into darkness and ass costing their faces.

A gust of wind swept over them, blowing ash and dust into Peter’s eyes, and with the shock came the memories. Again. The person - the figure, in the room. Again. Again. Again. They had been back, again. Peter remembered the first night, he had caught the smallest glimpse of them, but the room had been so dark that he didn’t notice there had been a person there. The second time, must’ve only been a few hours ago. Peter had heard their footsteps. He couldn’t be going crazy. Tony hadn’t believed him, but he had to. Whoever this person was, they just have caused this fire. But why? Peter couldn’t understand this. His mind was still to foggy, and-

“Kid! Look at me!” Tony was suddenly in front of him, and they were at least ten metres further from the building that they just had been. “What the hell’s going on with you today?”

“The... someone...” Peter couldn’t talk. He felt like the smoke was getting into his lungs, but they were too far away for that to happen.

“Hey, kid it’s ok. Calm down, look.” Tony gestures to the building and the fire was being put out.

“You have to believe me, Mr. Stark... that conversation you had, with Bruce, the other night. I know you think it’s bullshit but it’s not -“

“Kid, stop. Look, Steve’s organised a hotel for us to stay in for a while, alright? I was thinking that it was time you went home too. You seem like you’re mostly okay. You can stay with us in the hotel tonight until we can get your stuff together, then go home tomorrow.” Tony paused, an unreadable expression passing over his face. “I’m sure your aunt is missing you also.”

“No. I’m serious, Mr. Stark. You don’t listen to me and you have to, because this person is...” Peter broke off. What was that person? What was their deal? God, damn it. This was so hard. Everything was so damn hard. Keeping his thoughts in check.

“Calm down. Look - my home was just in danger of burning down, and we sorted it out. Whatever’s up with that head of yours,” Tony ruffled Peter’s hair, “we’ll sort that out too. Okay?”

“Okay...” the kid sighed. Tony was probably right. Whatever his problem was, it would explain these black outs and hallucinating was probably a part of it somehow. Peter wasn’t going to pretend that he knew what was going on, but he knew that he was safe with Tony.

Peter turned away from the man, sighing. He closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the sky, feeling a light rain pattering down onto his cheeks, mixed with ash. It was funny, how something so pure could be mixed with something so dirty and ugly. But that was that, and that was life.

Opening his eyes, Peter sighed again. He must have black out because everyone was gone, and it was just him in the lonely valley of ash and rain. He hadn’t even realised he’d been crying.

Wait.

There it was. That weird feeling - a prickling on the back of his neck, running down his spine. That tiny thing, out of the corner of his eye...

Peter spun around, facing the Person.

Masked and cloaked in black, the strange shape of the Person was unmistakable to the one that had been in his room. But here they were, in front of him.

Peter tried to talk, but no words came out. He blinked, and when he opened them again the Person was closer. The next time he blinked, they were closer again. Peter was frozen in place. The ash falling was impossible to keep out of his eyes, he had to blink...

His eyes opened again, cautiously, but the Person was gone. Peter was alone again.

Then there was a gloved hand over his mouth and an arm around his waste, picking him up and shoving him into an instrument case, zipping it up.

The last thing Peter felt was the feeling of movement, the tightness of his constricting lungs, the all-to familiar feeling of sleep overcoming him.

  
Gone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not trying to self advertise, but you can follow my Instagram. I’ll post when I’ll be updating this fic, with other Spider-Man/marvel/Tom Holland content and stuff.  
> @ frtomholland


	9. The Captor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up.  
> Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been a while, and this is relatively short.  
> I hope you enjoy it.

The first thing Peter registered was the cold.

He didn’t know where he was - the kid couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep, but either was it was dark. He could tell he was lying down - the ground beneath him was hard and dug into his aching muscles. The freezing cold air bit onto his skin with sharp razor-like teeth and pushed him further into the concrete.

Peter swallowed a few times, while trying to open his eyes. No use. His head felt like it was made of lead and his eyes were glued shut. He grunted.

“Oh!” A shrill voice called out from the shadows. “Nice to see that his-Highness has awoken.” Clacking footsteps neared Peter’s head. He felt a cold hand on his forehead, which snaked down and rested on his cheek, then pulled back one of his eyelids.

Peter sucked in a breath as he took in his surroundings.

His vision hadn’t fully cleared, but he could tell that he was in some kind of a bathroom. He wasn’t on concrete, or tarmac, but tiles. Freezing cold tiles, and he was... soaking wet.

The same hand that had just been resting on his forehead grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upright, forcing him to meet their eyes, which were barely visible behind a black mask. Peter struggled to stay awake.

“I know you’re in there, Parker.” The person said, tapping hard on the side of his temple. “And I know you remember me. So — Wakey wakey, or do we need to set an alarm tomorrow morning?”

What on Earth was this person on about? Yes, Peter remembered them. He remembered seeing them outside the burned down hospital, and them shoving him into their fucking case and taking him away, but everything was blank from there. And he was certain that he didn’t know who this person even was.

When Peter made no move, they spoke again.

“Fine then. Be like that, the sore, stupid child you always have been.” The person’s voice had changed - it was someone else. Someone familiar. Oh no. “You’ve always been like this, Peter. Ever since your uncle’s death. You’re not the only one hurting, you know?” May said. Peter let out a whimper as he took in the form of his aunt in front of him. How could this be-

“Kid!” Tony yelled, and when Peter blinked, his mentor was in front of him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get your lazy ass up, for once in your damn life!” He was yelling. Then they changed again.

“Jeez, man... I mean, really, Peter?” Ned said, disappointment in his eyes. “I thought you were my best friend,”

“Stop!” Peter screamed finally, forcing himself upright, hands over his ears, eyes scrunched tight shut.

Then the voice from the start was back. “Alright, I thought that might work.” They snaked around him, then sat on the lid of the toilet, gangly limbs crossed and taut.

“You’re going to regret this.” Peter stammered, voice dry. “M-Mr Stark will come looking for me, a-and he-he’ll kill you,”

The person laughed. “No he won’t, but nice try, kid.”

“Yes, he will-“ Peter broke into a coughing fit, blocking his ears harder as his captor laughed.

“Oh, no he won’t. You want to know why?” Peter’s assailant teased.

Peter stayed blank as the person moved to crouch in front of him.

There was a pause, then all the oxygen in the room was gone as they removed their mask.

Peter couldn’t believe his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my Instagram:  
> @ frtomholland

**Author's Note:**

> Should I continue this?


End file.
